The dusty grass between my toes is as gray as the blanket of clouds above me
The roads are silent except for the gentle hum of the tractor singing in my ears
Heated rain stirs the sky but never falls
While the white members of the community clothe themselves in lace,
They douse themselves in perfume with their hair in gentle woven braids,
We dress ourselves in dirt and the wear gloves of earth all over our arms
One of my brittle, brown hands clutch onto the innocent hand of my baby sister
Her eyes are glazed with a perfect coating of naivety –
She does not yet understand what the life she is condemned to will be like
her strong bones will wither from constant use the way that mine have.
with my life, I will protect her.
As I stray from my family pack,
without looking back,
I see them old boys preparing to fly,
As I look resisting to cry,
The Coca-Cola shack is just down the road,
To me, it looks like a humble aboad.
The Cola still resting on racks,
The once beautiful shop, now reduced to a shack,
Joint Poem:
The dusty grass between my toes is as gray as the blanket of clouds above meThe roads are silent except for the gentle hum of the tractor singing in my ears
Heated rain stirs the sky but never falls
While the white members of the community clothe themselves in lace,
They douse themselves in perfume with their hair in gentle woven braids,
We dress ourselves in dirt and the wear gloves of earth all over our arms
One of my brittle, brown hands clutch onto the innocent hand of my baby sister
Her eyes are glazed with a perfect coating of naivety –
She does not yet understand what the life she is condemned to will be like
her strong bones will wither from constant use the way that mine have.
with my life, I will protect her.
As I stray from my family pack,
without looking back,
I see them old boys preparing to fly,
As I look resisting to cry,
The Coca-Cola shack is just down the road,
To me, it looks like a humble aboad.
The Cola still resting on racks,
The once beautiful shop, now reduced to a shack,